The Stone Bench
by Maven Fair
Summary: Alice Kirkland, a young brit who lives on her own in London, encounters a peculiar man named Alfred F. Jones, sent over from America for vacation. This is the story of how their lives changed one another's lives. UsUk and implied Franada. One-shot.


**I've been having major writer's block, so I kinda set aside my other stories and wrote this. It was originally a school assignment, and I decided to upload it. The character's are OOC, and I think I rushed the ending. Anyway, I apologize in advance if you have to groan through this.**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, UsUk would be canon.**

The Stone Bench

I still remember the first time I had met him. It was a beautiful Autumn day, various hues of oranges and yellows painting the trees. I had just finished my the last drop of morning tea, and was heading out for my daily stroll around the local park. The neighborhood kids were running around as usual, while their mothers discussed various necessities. And while I made my way to the stone bench, right next to my favorite Maple tree, I just so happened to stumble upon _him._

" _Out for a morning stroll?" An American accent, I noted._

" _Indeed." I was stiff and uninviting. I wasn't one to associate with annoying people._

" _The weather here is so much different than New York. Much more… dreary. Less sunshine." His voice was boisterous and loud, like the typical American. "You know, you're the first person to spare me a glance."_

" _Oh, really?" I wasn't that interested in anything he had to say. Truth be told, I had only stopped because he was blocking my path. "That's a real shame. Now, if you'll excuse me." I swiftly turned around and walked away from him, not turning back._

Thinking back on it, I had been pretty high on my horse. Arrogance might as well have been written in sharpie on my forehead. Yet every day he was standing there, right next to the stone bench. For two whole months, he was waiting there. Everyday he attempted to talk, and, eventually, I opened up. I learned his name was Alfred F. Jones, sent over here for his vacation from the army. He had a strong sense of right and wrong, yet he could be pretty oblivious. He was constantly saying that he was the hero, and would defeat all the evil in the world. It had not been long before I had grown to care quite a bit for him. I had found his charisma endearing. Soon enough, my heart had started to clench every time I had to leave his company.

On one fateful Spring day, at around 4 o'clock, Alfred had invited me to dinner. I can still recall my excitement and pleasure when he had escorted me into the restaurant. My pure delight of the low candlelight, and the butterflies in my stomach when he had kissed me for the first time.

Although, once dusk had fallen, a sudden downpour had started. The drops were splattering against the pavement, drenching both Alfred and I in nearly seconds. While the situation seemed horrible, us alone, outside a restaurant, dripping wet, no umbrella, I bursted into laughter.

 _My laughter rang throughout the pitch black night, slicing through the veil of silence. His face contorted into nervousness, scared that he had done something wrong. My eyes moved to where he was standing, leaning against the stone bench, a nervous wreck. It was so much different from his usual demeanor that it was laughable. I strolled over and and pecked his cheek, my lips tingling from the act of affection for just a moment._

Days went on like this. Then days changed to months, and months changed to seasons, and eventually it was our two year anniversary. The air was fresh with the scent of a just finished rain. Raindrops still lingered on the leaves of trees, occasionally falling onto the damp ground. He had just finished taking me out to our favorite cafe, Aumore Chambre. All throughout the date he had been fidgety and nervous.

 _His air suggested that something bad was gonna happen. He steadied himself on the stone bench, the very place we met. Slowly and carefully, he got down on one knee. He pulled out a diamond ring and cleared his throat. Soon enough, everyone was looking._

" _I know I haven't known you for long. I'm loud and annoying, too cocky for my own good. But, I promise-no, I swear that I'll always be your hero. Alice Kirkland, will you marry me?"_

 _My eyes started to water. I hugged him tightly. Whispering quietly, just loud enough for everyone else to hear, I murmured a small "Yes."_

Looking at the ring on my finger, I reminisced about our wedding day. His parents weren't able to come, but your older sister Madeline had arrived. I was our first meeting, and I immediately took a liking to her. On the contrary, my whole family arrived. Having 7 brothers interrogate your husband was quite the predicament. Nonetheless, it was probably the best day of my life. A beautiful July day, sun shining through the glass. As the priest had started the ceremony, I remember how fast my heart had beat.

" _Do you, Alfred F. Jones, take Alice Kirkland to be your wife?" My heart was ready to come out of my chest, I was sure that everyone in the room could hear it._

" _I do." I tried to steady my breathing, looking up at Al. His smile couldn't have been wider._

" _Do you, Alice Kirkland, take Alfred F. Jones to be your husband?" It's time._

" _I do."_

" _You may now kiss the bride." Alfred took me and dipped me quick as lightning, and our lips touched. The world could have ended right there, and I wouldn't have cared._

For two years, our lives revolved around each other. We lived peacefully in a cottage that was bought by Alfred's parents. We were in a stable relationship. He worked part-time as a teacher at a nearby school. I stayed home and tended to our garden. I was content. Until that day, everything was perfect.

 _Alfred held a small envelope in his hand. His face held a solemn expression. I asked what's wrong._

" _They are asking me to go back into the army." My hands stopped moving and the teacup fell with a crash. Earl Grey soiled the carpet, but I didn't kneel to clean it up._

" _Are you going to accept?" Even though I asked this, I already knew his answer. He was always full of chivalry, and a sense of heroism._

" _Yes, I will. I'm leaving two days from now." I tried to smile. I tried to encourage him. But I couldn't. With all the death going around, I was scared. Our neighbor's brother had gone to war 2 weeks ago, and he had come home cold and lifeless, inside a wooden box._

I waited three years for him to come home. He constantly sent me letters, each signed with care. I had 72 unique papers, which had accumulated throughout the years. I could just imagine him, in the barracks, writing about the latest predicament, wondering when he'll be home. I learned that his position was as an air force pilot, and that he had encountered quite a few close calls. But on his 72th letter, he described a terrible situation, where he had to go into German barracks. Three weeks after that letter, I received a phone call.

 _I scrambled over to the ringing phone, shoving away various household items. Lifting the receiver up to my ear, a solemn voice asked if I was Mrs. Jones._

" _Yes. Yes I am. Might I ask you you are?" Nobody had reason to call me right now, late at night, when nearly everyone was asleep._

" _I'm sorry I have to be the one to break this to you." Although the woman's voice was monotone, I could hear the slightest crack in protocol, as though something unpleasant was caught in her throat. "Alfred F. Jones, pilot in the war, was killed today when he saved his comrades from a grenade that had made it's way into his barrack." The whole world seemed to stop. My heart pounded uncontrollably in my ear, drowning out any condolences the woman had to say._

The funeral was silent and solemn, although the weather was anything but. The sun had shined brightly, as though it was mocking us in our sorrow. Madeline had traveled all the way from France to attend her late brother's funeral. The ceremony had dragged on for a whole 2 hours, although they both seemed like days. Ever since his death, time seemed to flow so slowly.

His tombstone still sat there, and it embodied possibly all of the sadness and grief I have ever felt. I visit the cemetery nearly everyday, though sometimes I am too weak to even attempt. But even then, I still visit the sturdy maple tree, whose leaves would turn brilliant shades in the Autumn. And then I would rest for awhile on the small stone bench, and think of better times. Times when Alfred F. Jones roamed the Earth.


End file.
